Next to Me
by RJJ036
Summary: Stiles and Lydia fan-fic. Starts a week after Allison's death.
1. The Funeral

It felt like just yesterday when Allison was killed by the Oni; but it wasn't. A full week has passed since Allison's death and the Nogistune was destroyed. It was time for the funeral.

Allison was to be buried next to herm other, two graves down on the left, form Kate. The funeral was held on a brisk late-November morning. Chris, followed by Scott, Isaac, Stiles, and finally Lydia, occupied the front row.

Stiles was lucky he was able to get Lydia to come; ever since that night in which Allison was killed, Lydia didn't go to school, and barely left her house. Stiles still remembers going to Lydia's house to drop off schoolwork. "How is she doing?" Stiles asked Lydia's mother when she answered the door.

"Lydia will barely talk to me. You can try talking to her, if you would like," Mrs. Martin offered.

"Thank you," Stiles responded, stepping inside and silently climbing the stairs to what awaited him on the floor above him. When he got to Lydia's bedroom door, he entered without even knocking. On a normal day, Lydia would have probably screamed and kicked Stiles out, but that didn't happen today. "Hey," was all Stiles said as he shut the door silently behind him.

"Hi," Lydia said from her bed. Stiles could tell from her voice she's been crying ever since Allison was killed.

"I brought you your homework," Stiles said."

"Just put it on the desk, please," Lydia told him. Stiles crossed the room and placed it on the very organized desk.

"Well, I better get going," Stiles said as he turned back to the door. "Got a lot of class work to catch up on."

"Stay," was the singled word Lydia uttered. It caused Stiles to freeze in his tracks, and turn around, partially because Stiles was barely able to hear what Lydia said.

"What did you say?" Stiles asked.

Lydia sat up, her strawberry blonde hair in a messy ponytail, dark circles underlined her wide green eyes, and her already pale skin was even paler. "Stay…please," she said once more, just loud enough for Stiles to hear her.

"Yeah…yeah, of course," Stiles said softly, crossing to Lydia's bed, sliding his shoes off and laying next to the fragile girl.

Lydia rested her head directly next to stiles. He could feel her eyes burn holes into him. Stiles couldn't take it any longer, he moved onto his side so his brown eyes were staring into Lydia's. "I know that when we first met, I wasn't the nicest person to you, but thank you for being here with me, whenever I need you, no matter if I say I need you or not," Lydia softly spoke. "Especially now."

"I'll be here no matter what," whenever you need me, " Stiles said back to her.

The funeral only lasted forty-five minutes, but Stiles felt like it lasted three times as long. When it was finally over, he hurried back to his jeep, causing Scott and Lydia to notice. "Some thing's wrong with him," Scott says. He takes a step to go after his friend, but Lydia grabs his arm.

"Let me talk to him," Lydia says to Scott. The werewolf couldn't say anything but nod. Lydia walked off in the direction she and Scott saw Stiles hurry off in. the blue jeep was parked the closest the exit of the funeral home's parking lot. When Lydia got there, she found the driver's seat empty. If it weren't for the soft cries, Lydia probably would have never found Stiles.

On the other side of the jeep, Lydia found Stles sitting on the curb, face buried in his hands, doing his best to make his cries to be silent, but to no avail. "Stiles," Lydia said. Stiles lift his head to reveal just how distraught he was. Lydia likened the way he looked to the panic attack he had towards the beginning of the year, but much worse.

"Please, just go away, Lydia," he begged. "Please."

"Why are you like this? You weren't like this before," she said, sitting down next to him on the curb.

"That's because I had to cover up my grief for you and Scott," Stiles admitted.

"You didn't have to do that," Lydia said, laying a gentle hand on Stiles' arm.

"It's all my fault, you know," Stiles said.

"What is?" Lydia asked, confused.

"This, all of this. If I was just a little bit stronger, like Scott is, Allison was, this funeral wouldn't be happening right now," Stiles began, as did the tears, "Scott wouldn't have lost his first love, you wouldn't have lost your best friend, Mr. Argent wouldn't be coming to an empty home everyday. Instead, if Alison was alive, we would all be celebrating the defeat of Void; you Scott, Kira, Allison, Isaac, and I," Stiles' voice cracks, "but none of that can happen because I couldn't fight off some stupid spirit."

Lydia couldn't think of anything to say to calm down the very upset teenage boy. "Yu can't beat yourself up, Stiles. Allison wouldn't want you doing that, and she certainly wouldn't have blamed you for this," Lydia spoke. "You're one of the strongest people I know, Stiles. You got beat up by Allison's grandfather, and were still able to help Jackson; you aren't afraid to get involved with a fight, even if it ends up with you getting hurt. You aren't just strong, but you you're smart; you solved that sacrifice of threes, didn't you? Stiles, you are brave, smart, funny, you're," Lydia hesitated, "you are strong."

Stiles stopped crying after her small speech. "Thank you," he tells her. "You told me a few days ago I was always there for you, but the truth is, you've always been there for me; through thick or thin," Stiles told Lydia.

"And don't you forget it, Stilinski," Lydia says, leaning her head on his shoulder."

* * *

Seven weeks later, Stiles and Lydia were finally getting over Allison's death, and things were finally returning to normal. "Please promise to me this semester is going to be monster free," Lydia begged Stiles as he gathered things from his locker for his brand new classes.

"I don't think I can, but I can promise you that the next week will be, ignoring the existence of werewolves, banshees, and kitsunes," Stiles said with his regular witty tone, earning a small grin from Lydia. "What's your first class?"

"Um," Lydia says as she digs through her purse finally retrieving her new schedule. "Office aide."

"Well, would you look at that? Guess who is also going to be an office aide this semester?" Stiles says, showing Lydia his schedule.

"Walk me?" Lydia asks.

"Of course," Stiles says, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a casual, almost friendly manner.

* * *

_Title of Chapter Comes from:_

**_"The Funeral" by The Band of Horses_**


	2. Smells Like Teen Spirit

Lydia entered Beacon ills High Tuesday morning with her head held high; she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something about Lydia that made her be very confident. She walked straight towards Kira's locker, where Kira was in a conversation with Scott and Stiles. "Hey, guys," Lydia says as she reaches them.

"Hey!" Stiles says, a large grin forming on his face as he squeezes hr against him with an arm.

"Hey," Scott and Kira say together. Even with the death of his first love, and a tough divorce between her parents, the two were still going stronger than ever.

"What's the topic of conversation?" Lydia asks her three friends.

"How normal our lives have been for the past couple of weeks," Scott responds.

"Why think about it when we can simply enjoy it?" Lydia asks.

"That's what I'm talking about," Stiles says, with his signature goofy smirk.

"Doesn't lacrosse start up again soon?" Kira asks the boys.

"Yup, and you're looking at the captain," Stiles says, patting Scott on the back. "Not only is Scott an alpha off the field, but he's also one on the field."

"Alright, alright, it's no big deal, guys," Scott says, trying to make a bi deal into nothing special.

"Are you kidding me!? Scott, this is awesome news!" Kira exclaims, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend and pulling him in for a kiss. Things quickly get heated, and Stiles realizes that neither he nor Lydia was welcomed no longer.

"C'mon," Stiles says leading down the hallway.

"Are you excited for lacrosse?" Lydia asks.

Stile shrugs and readjusts his backpack straps. "I don't know, sitting on the bench can get a little boring," Stiles says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"But you did amazing at last year's championship game," Lydia argues.

Stiles shrugs. "We'll see," he says. The two reach the end of the hallway and are met by a pair of doors, which Stiles open for. The two walk through and are now in the front office. They walk to the two open chairs behind the front desk and sit down. "Here back from any of the those colleges you applied to?"

Lydia nods. "Only San Diego, I got in. But UCSD is the easiest out of the UC schools to get into," Lydia says, shrugging. "What colleges did you apply to?"

"I applied to UCLA, Berkley, UCSD, and Washington," Stiles says. "Yet to hear back from any of the them."

"What interested you about Washington? Isn't it rainy there, like, all the time?" Lydia asks.

"Um, my mom went there," Stiles answers.

"Oh, Stiles, I'm –" she begins before getting cut off by stiles.

"Don't be, it's not that big of a deal," Stiles responds, causing the teens to sit in awkward silence.

* * *

The doors to the office open, and a young boy walks in, must be a freshman or a sophomore. He oozes arrogance, with every step that he takes. He walks up to Lydia, acting as if Stiles doesn't even exist, and says, "Hey there, babe, so I was wondering if you could whip me up a little late slip. Say something about me being at the doctor's I guess." The boy shrugs.

Lydia's face contorts into a look of disgust. "God, what is that smell?" she asks openly.

"It's probably my cologne. Why, you like?" the boy says, leaning over the desk so Lydia can get a better smell, but she backs away in disgust.

"Alright, hot stuff, that's enough," Stiles says, pushing the boy away from Lydia. "You alright, Lydia?"

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Lydia says quickly, before getting up from her seat and disappearing down the hallway behind the front desk.

"Nice one, asshole," Stiles mutters as he sits down and picks up a note pad and pen. "What's your name, kid?"

"You play lacrosse?" the boy asks, his eyes fixed at Stiles lacrosse stick, which is attached to the backpack.

"No, I just carry around a lacrosse stick just for the hell of it," Stiles says.

"Wait – aren't you Stiles? I remember you watching at the champion game last year!" the boy exclaims. "I'm Liam, Liam MacIntosh. I'm trying out later today."

"Cool," Stiles says flatly with an eye roll. "What's your fist period class?"

"History with James," Liam says. Stiles scribbles something on the notepad and rips off the paper, handing it to Liam. Liam stuffs it in his pocket, not bothering with reading it. "You think you can put a good word in for me with Finnstock?"

"Dude, you just came to school thirty minutes late, act like a grade-A douche bag to one of the greatest girls on the planet, and are asking me to put a good word in for you with Finnstock," Stiles says, agitated. "He doesn't like kiss ups; he likes people who know how to play and are good at it."

Liam looks back, stunned. "Alright, fine, thanks," he says, slowly backing away from Stiles and walking out of the front office.

Stiles found Lydia, huddled over the toilet, in the female faculty's restroom a few minutes later. "Lydia are you okay?" he calls out, having sneaked inside before anyone could see him.

"Yeah, sorry. It was just that smell, it was disgusting," she says. She gets up from the floor and exits the stall; she goes over to the sink and starts washing her hands. She notices Stiles staring at her, through the mirror. "What?"

"Lydia, what smell were you talking about? Because I smelled nothing but the decades old desk slowly rotting away," Stiles says.

"That kid! His breath, everything about him. Every time he spoke, the smell got worse and worse," Lydia says.

"What did this smell smell like, exactly?" Stiles asks. Suddenly, something clicks inside Lydia, causing her to go pale; Stiles immediately notices, "Lydia?"

"Death," Lydia utters.

* * *

_Title of Chapter comes from:_

**_Smells Like Teen_**_ **Spirit **by **Nirvana**_


End file.
